


Playing Politics

by RCs Many Posts (Parker4131970)



Category: due South
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-05-10 10:32:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5582294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Parker4131970/pseuds/RCs%20Many%20Posts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Known before as 'Revenge'.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Known before as 'Revenge'.

Chicago General Hospital ….  
Meg sat in the rigid, plastic chair by the bed. The room lights had been dimmed to a single light over the hospital bed. The sound of nurses and equipment filtered through the closed door. A harsh, disinfectant smell permeated the room. The scent Meg couldn't get out of her sinuses was Fraser's. She still heard his voice shouting for her to get down.  
“If I hadn't insisted on going with him, he wouldn't be lying there.” She let out a shuddering sigh. She hadn't cried yet. It still didn't seem real that Fraser had been shot in the back, again.  
“You can't leave me, Fraser, you can't give up. You've never called me by my first name.” Meg wiped her eyes, thinking how silly that sounded. She just wanted to hear him say something, anything. It wouldn't have mattered if it were one of his flimsy, implausible excuses.  
“I know I told you to forget our contact, I ordered you to. I was, I shouldn't have. I shouldn't have given you an order I couldn't follow myself.” She looked at his peaceful face, an oxygen tube hooked on each ear, other monitor wires running from beneath his hospital gown. Meg took his hand between both of hers. It felt cold as she fit her palm against his.  
“Turnbull is taking care of your wolf. The poor thing won't eat. He said it's whining for you.” Meg tried to focus on other things. Welsh had called as had Frannie and Mrs. Kowalski. Everyone was worried about Fraser.  
Meg could still feel the weight of him on top of her as he tackled her to the ground, both of them landing hard. Fraser had smacked his head against the concrete sidewalk, pinning her down. He'd seen the reflection off of a gun barrel and turned to shield her. Meg would feel responsible forever. She'd never had a subordinate officer put themselves on the line for her before.  
“I didn't expect to see you here.” The blond Ray staggered into the dark room. When he stepped into the dim light Meg saw fresh bruises beginning on his face and a hollowness in his eyes she hadn't noticed before.  
“Are you alright, Detective?” She quickly laid Fraser's hand down and stood up.  
“Yeah, I'm just greatness.” He shrugged, his light eyes steady on his friend's still form. Part of Meg feared Ray at that moment. She knew he could be impulsive and unpredictable, always threatening to kick someone in the head. His whipcord lean body and boxer's hands could do damage if he had a mind to.  
“How's Fraser?” Ray asked, his voice low as he stared. He reached up to run a hand over his jaw. Meg saw drying blood still oozing from cuts on his knuckles.  
“He's in stable condition, the bullet broke a rib but didn't hit his lung. The doctor is more worried about the head wound right now.” Meg informed him. “You're bleeding, let me see your hands.” She reached out to offer help, hands open.  
“Ah, it's nothin'.” He waved her off, his hand slapping the slack material of his trench coat. Looking at him more closely, Meg saw a small cut above his left brow and one on his cheek.  
“Come on, Detective, Fraser's alright for the moment, let me tend to you.” Meg reached out to lay her hand on his shoulder but thought better of it.  
“Yeah, okay.” Ray shuffled toward the bathroom of Fraser's private room. His eyes still scared Meg. They seemed so chillingly hollow. She wondered who he'd fought with.  
Meg turned on the cold water and put Ray's hands beneath the stream while she found a wash cloth and bandaging material. The harsh light overhead really brought out the bruises on his face and the dampness on Meg's cheeks.  
“May I ask what happened?” Meg asked nonchalantly, dabbing lightly at the oozing scrapes on Ray's hands. She saw blood on the toes of his heavy biker boots.  
“I caught the SOB.” He stated flatly, staring at something only he could see in the mirror.  
“Did the suspect resist arrest?” The Inspector ventured a quick look up at him. Ray rolled his shoulders, jaw clenched as he waited for her to finish.  
“Somethin' like that, least that's what the report'll say when Welsh sees it.” A menacing smile pulled at his lean face. If his hands and face were any indication, he'd beaten the suspect to a pulp.  
“Oh.” Meg said, paying closer attention to her work. She didn't have anything to say for or against it. She didn't know if she could have stopped herself from doing the same thing.  
Footsteps outside the bathroom broke the silence between Meg and Ray. A slim, sour faced nurse stepped inside the room. A stethoscope hung around her neck.  
“It's after visiting hours, you shouldn't be here.” She popped her fist on her hip and glared at them.  
“Yeah, whatever, go pull the thermometer outta yer ass.” Ray stepped toward her. Aghast, the nurse took a step backward.  
“Well, I never!! I'm going to call security.” she marched back into the hallway.  
“You do that.” Ray growled.  
“She's only doing her job, Detective.” Meg admonished softly but with a raised brow.  
“And I done mine tonight, I got the SOB who shot Fraser.” Ray stepped away from Meg and into the hospital room. The nurse had left the front door open. He shoved it closed.  
Meg took a fresh wash cloth and began tending the cut on Ray's brow. He hissed and cursed under his breath but she didn't quit. She cleaned and bandaged the cut quickly. The faint scent of alcohol drifted off him.  
“Why were they shooting at you and Fraser tonight?” Meg spoke softly, nothing like her usual, brisk tone.  
“I don't wanna talk about it.” Ray shrugged and stepped through the bathroom door.  
“I want to see the shooter brought to justice as much as you do, Detective.” Meg stepped back, laying the wash cloth on the sink. She had no jurisdiction to compel him to answer her question. The lady Mountie hoped he saw her as an ally when it came to Fraser. She felt guilty for insisting to go, to prevent an incident. Instead, she'd put Fraser in the path of a bullet.  
“Me and Fraser, we been investigatin' a city alderman for buyin' votes, nothin' special, but this guy, he's got connections we didn't know about.” Ray answered.  
“Mafia connections?” Meg surmised.  
“Yeah, Devil's Band, they sent a heavy hitter from home sweet home.” Ray chewed on his bottom lip, both hands on his snake hips.  
“Oh dear.” Meg had heard about the raucous biker gang. They smuggled drugs and contraband across the US/Canadian border worth tens of millions of dollars every month. They'd expanded as far south as Mexico.  
“Our alderman's got a piece of the action at the port.” The Detective ran his hand through his already wild, blond hair. He cursed the alderman under his breath, calling him everything short of a jersey milk cow.  
“If the gunman is a Canadian I can bring my government into this case.” Meg offered, her mind already compiling a list of people to call the next morning.  
“I dunno what he is exactly, Huey and the Lieutenant pulled me off 'im, sent me home.” Ray shrugged. All he knew for certain was frustration, bone weariness and the urge to find a liquor store and drink it all. “If Fraser were okay he'd take one look at the guy and tell us the guy's favorite number 'er somethin'.”  
“Yes, he has an uncanny knack for that sort of thing.” Meg agreed. The Mountie knew the difference between expensive and cheap wine from a single sniff, or when Turnbull had switched furniture polish brands.  
The hospital room door flew open. A heavyset guard filled the door way, the sour faced nurse behind him.  
“It's after visiting hours, you'll have to leave.” The guard rested the heel of his hand on a billy club hanging from his belt. Ray swept back his trench coat, displaying his service revolver.  
“We were just on our way out.” Meg stepped between them. “Fraser is in good hands, Detective.” She turned toward the unpredictable officer, her voice firm.  
“He'd better be.” Ray stepped forward, letting his trench coat fall back into place. Meg collected her own coat and caught up to Ray. Together they walked to the parking garage.  
“Need a ride?” Ray asked casually as they exited the elevator.  
“Yes, thank you, my car is still at the consulate.” Meg answered, pulling her purse closer to her side in the dark, cement garage.  
Ray unlocked the passenger side door of his beloved GTO silently. Meg let herself in and closed the door carefully. Ray slid in a moment later. He shoved the key into the ignition then sat back, his head resting on his chest. They sat in dark silence. This would have been a time for Ray to talk to Fraser, to sort his thoughts out. Something about his friend helped him think clearer. Once upon a time, his ex-wife had helped him do the same thing.  
A minute later, Ray snapped his head up, eyes wide open. He started the classic muscle car and backed out of the parking spot. The engine purred like a lion, full of power and pleasure. Meg gripped the underside of the seat as they swung around corners and zipped down the ramps. She didn't dare say a word, remembering the darkness she'd seen in the detective's eyes.  
At the consulate, Ray pulled along side the walk way, heedless of the fire zone. Meg opened her door and stepped out. She wanted to say something to Ray, but what?  
“Let me know if the hospital calls, okay?” Ray spoke first, staring up at her through the open door.  
“Yes. Will you do the same?” She asked, leaning down to see him better.  
“Yeah, sure. G'night.” The Detective bid her, waiting for the car door to close. Meg obliged. She stood on the sidewalk and watched the gleaming, black car disappear around the corner. Fraser had a core of nurses and doctors to take care of him, but who did Ray have? Meg couldn't help but wonder.  
***


	2. Chapter 2

Chicago General Hospital …..   
Meg checked in at the consulate the next morning before driving back to the hospital. She hadn't received a call from either Ray or the hospital. She had to know if that was good or bad.   
Ray's car sat in the lot nearest the hospital's main entrance. From the condensation on the windows, it had been there all night. Meg shook her head. She parked nearby and made her way inside.   
A doctor and a gaggle of students stood in the middle of the hallway as Meg approached Fraser's room. She hated seeing the gaggle. They were there to learn, yes, but she wanted to give them a bedside manners lecture; don't talk to each other over the patient, introduce yourself to patients and their families, have a sense of humor, don't talk to patients like they're stupid children.   
“How am I supposed to do my job with him standing there like a ghoul?” A nurse spoke low to a tech as they walked out of Fraser's room. The thirty-something nurse looked up to see Meg walking briskly toward them. The nurse's face masked over in an instant before she and the tech passed.   
“Good morning, Detective.” Meg greeted Ray. He sat beside the sleeping Mountie, his chin resting on his clasped hands, elbows on his knees.  
“Hey, Inspector.” He turned his gaze away from Fraser to Meg. He hadn't changed clothes, hadn't shaved or eaten from what Meg could see of him.   
“Has the doctor been in yet?” Meg asked, standing at the foot of Fraser's bed.   
“Yeah, dumb quack.”   
Meg heard the chair beneath him creak as he sat straighter. She couldn't agree more with his assessment but wouldn't say so. She still felt like a dumb quack herself for distracting Fraser. If she hadn't been there he couldn't have needed to protect her. He would have been safe.   
“How's Dief?” Ray asked, stretching his arms over his head.  
“The wolf won't leave Fraser's cot, won't eat anything, not even a creme horn.” Meg sighed, she'd tried to get him to eat, as had Turnbull.   
“I should bring him to the hospital, let him see Fraser for himself.” Ray shrugged.   
“Have you checked in at the precinct today?” Meg idly plucked at the flap of her pocket.   
“Nah, Welsh sent me home for a couple days.” Ray shrugged, his expression sour.   
“Has there been any change in Constable Fraser's condition?” Meg pulled up a second chair and sat beside Ray.   
“No.” Ray answered curtly. He wore a three day beard past it's expiration date. From the way the detective tapped his fingers against the chair arm and squirmed, he'd been living on coffee for a couple days as well.   
“I wish he would wake up, say something, anything.” Meg thought to herself. She wouldn't have minded one of Fraser's lame excuses, if only he were awake to tell it.   
Their only common ground being Fraser, Meg and Ray fell into silence, both lost in thought. So many people of different walks of life crossed the Constable's path. No two of them could be more different.   
“I'm Doctor Crutchfield. Ah, the Constable's wife, good.” A harried, male doctor in a well worn lab coat spoke. Through thick lenses, he peered at the contrasting pair.   
“I'm his commanding officer.” Meg stood up.  
“I'm his partner.” Ray interjected, popping to his feet.   
The doctor blinked several times, looking from Fraser to Ray.   
“Not that kind of partner, Doc.” Ray bristled, hands on his hips as he stood straighter, shoulders squared.   
Meg tried to contain an eye roll, focusing instead on the doctor. “Has there been any improvement, anything?” She redirected the conversation.  
“Mr. Fraser is in stable condition.” The doctor answered vaguely.   
“What does that mean, Doc, stable condition?” Ray asked, stepping forward, arms crossed over his chest.   
“It means he's going to be alright, it will just take time, he sustained a very serious wound. It's amazing he survived at all.” Crutchfield explained patiently.   
“Were you able to retrieve the bullet for ballistics testing?” Meg switched into law enforcement mode.   
“Yes, we've sent it to the proper authorities.” Crutchfield answered clearly.   
“I gotta go.” Ray interjected before Meg could ask another question. He pushed past the doctor and through the door quickly.   
“Thank you kindly, Dr. Crutchfield.” Meg nodded and followed Ray into the hallway. He stood facing the wall, one hand at head height against the wall as he stared into a trash can.   
“I believe we still have time for breakfast in the cafeteria.” Meg suggested, checking her watch. “You haven't eaten today.” She stated blandly.   
Ray laughed before straightening up. “You ain't very good at motherin'.” He chuckled, his posture relaxed.   
“I'm just doing what Fraser would do.” Meg admitted, staring down at her navy pumps.   
“No, ya ain't, but yer tryin', thanks.” He shuffled a few steps down the hall, toward the elevator. Meg easily kept up with him. They rode the elevator to the first floor and followed direction arrows to the cafeteria. Ray bought a large coffee while Meg bought an orange juice, two sausage biscuits and a bran muffin. By silent, mutual agreement, they found a seat near the windows looking out at the city beyond staff parking. Meg shoved one biscuit toward Ray and opened her muffin. Florescent lights shone dimly overhead compared to the morning sun outside.   
“Thanks.” Ray grunted, unwrapping the undersized biscuit and sausage patty. It smelled spicy and buttery.   
“Have you heard anything from Lieutenant Welsh or the other detectives on the case?” Meg began, switching to a topic of mutual interest.   
“Nah, my cell's been dead for two days, besides, the duck boys and I aren't exactly friends.” Ray shrugged. He supposed he should call the precinct and get an update.   
“I took the opportunity last night and this morning to call my superior officers about the situation. They promised to share any pertinent information with the U.S. Authorities, it's a bureaucratic brush off but I'll keep working on it.” Meg shared what she'd done just to break the silence.   
“I shouldn't have left you and Fraser on the front porch.” Ray laid the sausage biscuit down, having only taken two bites. He sighed, leaning back against the plastic chair.  
“This isn't your fault, Detective, the street light should have lit the whole house and yard , you were following procedure.” Meg reminded him logically.   
“He's layin' in there and I ain't.” Ray countered, wiping his bleary eyes, running his hand down his face.   
“I should be the one they shot, Constable Fraser was shielding me.” Meg admitted grimly.   
“There should be more cops like Fraser, that's fer sure.” Ray sighed, crossing his arms over his chest.   
“I agree.” Meg spoke low, barely audible.   
“He likes you, you know that don't ya?” Ray fixed her with an unnerving gaze.   
“I'm his superior officer, nothing more, Detective.” Meg's dark eyes flashed like lightning.   
“Ah, I got ya, you like him too.” Ray grinned devilishly.   
“Detective!” Meg barked, her gaze narrow and seething.   
“Okay, okay, don't stroke out 'er somethin', sheesh.” Ray shook his head, openly rolling his light blue eyes.   
“We should finish, I have phone calls to make.” Meg finished her orange juice and stood up. She wanted to rake the detective over the coals but decided not to.   
After throwing their trash away, the Inspector and Ray walked back to Fraser's hospital room. A new, sour faced nurse walked from the room as they neared.   
“Aren't there any pretty nurses anymore?” Ray asked, faking a shiver.   
Meg took a turn at rolling her eyes. All men were alike, except for Fraser.   
Inside the room, Fraser waved at them, still laying flat of his back in bed.  
“Inspector Thatcher, Ray, hello.” The Mountie sounded weak but encouraging.   
“Constable Fraser!” Meg rushed to his side, barely containing her excitement.   
“Hey, Frase, did you take a long enough nap 'er what?” Ray waltzed in behind the Inspector, a relieved grin on his face.   
The Mountie grinned, looking his friend over carefully.   
“How do you feel, Constable?” Meg asked, her tone light but professional. She felt her heart leap when he shifted those blue eyes toward her. He looked better and sounded wonderful. Anything Fraser said sounded wonderful.   
“Sore, Sir.” Fraser answered, suppressing a grunt as he moved the hospital bed to a sitting position.   
“You were shot, Moron, don't move.” Meg moved in to slap his hand away from the motorized controls.   
“Ease up, Inspector, he's been flat of his back for a couple a days now.” Ray growled at her.   
“Good morning, Mr. Fraser, I'm Dr. Crutchfield.” The doctor's rumbling voice cut through the conversation. He shooed both Ray and the Inspector out of the room while he examined Fraser.   
“He's finally awake.” Ray leaned against the off-white wall outside Fraser's room. Meg nodded in agreement, her mind running ahead. She felt relieved but still guilty.   
“Yes, he is. Thankfully.” Meg agreed, crossing her arms over her chest.   
“You gonna tell him what you were sayin' the other night?” Ray asked quietly, looking at her over imaginary glasses.   
Meg looked at him, eyes wide in shock. She hadn't given being overheard a single thought.   
“Why I, …. how dare ….” She began.  
Ray held up a silencing hand. “No worries, Inspector, I ain't a snitch.” He assured her with a haggard grin.   
“Now isn't the proper time, it's a ….”   
“Complicated, yeah, yeah, I heard him say the same thing about it.” The Detective shrugged. “There's no time like the present, Inspector.” With that, Ray walked away, leaving Meg to her own jumbled thoughts.   
Dr. Crutchfield walked out of the hospital room, a relieved expression on his face.   
“He's young and strong, thankfully, it was a glancing blow. Mr. Fraser should be as fine as ever in a few weeks.”   
They talked for a few more minutes about how long Fraser would be in the hospital and his recovery. Meg walked back into Fraser's room biting her bottom lip. When she saw Fraser watching her she shifted to her 'Inspector' mask back on.   
“Dr. Crutchfield is optimistic that you'll be out in a few days.” Meg began, standing at the foot of the bed, her hands clasped before her.   
“Yes, Sir, the sooner the better.” Fraser pulled the thin hospital blanket up under his chin.   
“Are you cold, Constable?” Meg stepped around the bed.   
“No, no, Sir. I'm quite comfortable.” Fraser gripped the blanket even tighter, his eyes wide.   
Meg stopped in her tracks. It wouldn't do for him to be uncomfortable.   
“I'll have Constable Turnbull bring Diefenbaker around later, he says the wolf won't eat. It wouldn't do to have a dead wolf smelling up the consulate.” Meg pursed her brick red painted lips.   
“Thank you kindly, Inspector.” Fraser nodded, relaxing a bit.   
Meg ordered Fraser to rest and get ready to go back to work. She left an Inspector on the outside but a thankful woman on the inside.  
***


	3. Chapter 3

Meg paced from her kitchen to the bay window in the living room. Ray's words ran through her mind. When would she tell Fraser how she felt?   
Around midnight, she couldn't pace any longer. She pulled on an old,button up sweater, slipped her feet into shabby, scuffed loafers and grabbed her purse.  
Twenty minutes later, Meg walked down the hall to Fraser's room. She crept past the nurses' station and into the private room barely illuminated by a security light outside. Dief came out of the corner to investigate. After identifying the Inspector, he slunk over to the bedside. Fraser didn't stir.   
Meg sat down in the hard plastic chair at the bedside. She silently studied Fraser's profile, lashes against his cheeks and the curve of his mouth. Memories of crisp, winter air against her face and those lips against hers filled her mind for a long moment.   
“He's beautiful, isn't he.” Meg whispered to Diefenbaker. The old wolf laid his head on her knee, a bold move for him. Absently, Meg stroked his silky fur.   
“He shouldn't be lying there, I shouldn't have insisted on going with them.” She didn't care that Dief couldn't hear her, or that it was well past time to be home and in bed, she had things to say.   
“He's the kindest man I've ever known, good hearted, stubborn.” Meg chuckled softly, remembering how he'd refused to update his uniform choice and how he'd flatly disobeyed an order to pull over outside the theater where her brooch had been stolen.   
“Sometimes I wonder what I've done to deserve him, sometimes it's a complaint, other times I count my blessings.” The Henri Cloutier incident and the Tshimshim Mask incident both came to mind. “If he hadn't been out with you and fell into a pit, Cloutier wouldn't have had reason to come to Chicago, and I wouldn't have put that chauvinist pig in his place once and for all, either.” A heavy sigh escaped Meg's chest. Cloutier hadn't said another word since that evening. Meg didn't expect he would any time soon.   
“Fraser doesn't deserve to be stuck here in Chicago, but part of me is thankful for it. I joined the Force to help others, instead I've been career driven, rising to the top, helping only myself. It's a challenge, and I love that. I have to be smarter, more diplomatic, better at the game than my male counterparts. None of that matters to Fraser, he just jumps in, always doing what's right.” Meg shook her head, thinking that if he hadn't she would have been fired more than once since coming to Chicago; the NAFTA Summit, and the Tshim shim Mask theft for instance. “He never takes an order that goes against his code, his ethics.”   
“He takes care of me far better than I take care of him. I envy that. He takes care of me, takes care of Ray, of you, the whole damn world if he could. Who takes care of him?”   
Dief grunted in protest at that statement. He took the best care of his pack mate that the silly human would allow. It wasn't his fault Fraser wouldn't listen.   
“Sorry, who takes care of him besides you, I meant. Ray tries, but he's barely able to take care of himself sometimes. I guess there is a shred of maternal instinct in me after all because I wonder if he's eating properly, if he has enough clothes, if he's sleeping well. I just want to pull him to me and let him rest for a while.” She leaned forward, her face in her hands.   
Dief nosed in, trying to comfort her. He smelled tears and felt her shuddering. It wasn't like the alpha female to cry or be anything but bossy and in charge.   
“It's a good thing you can't talk.” Meg took the wolf's head in both hands and leaned her forehead against his. She needed a friendly face just then, even if it was lupine.   
“I'm torn between two choices, continue with the Force or find a way to be with Fraser, if he even feels the same about me.”   
After a mostly silent cry on Dief's shoulder, Meg pulled herself together. The plastic chair creaked beneath her as she stood.   
“Inspector,” Fraser's quiet voice broke the darkness, drawing Meg back to his side.   
“Constable Fraser, I, um, I'm sorry, I didn't intend to wake you ….” Meg didn't know how to explain herself - at two am. “I should be going.”   
“Stay, for a moment, please.” Fraser used the remote control to lift the head of the bed and turn on the night light.   
“You should be resting, Constable.” Meg shoved her hands into her over sized sweater pockets. She suspected she looked like a bum on the street.   
“Forgive me, but I overheard your conversation with Diefenbaker,” The Mountie began, looking Meg steadily in the eye.   
“Oh? I'm not certain what you heard, I'm sure you were dreaming, you are on potent pain killers.” Meg answered, pulling her hands from her pockets and laying them along the stainless steel bar raised to keep Fraser from falling out of bed.   
“I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I'm glad I did.” Fraser laid his hand on top of hers, keeping her from pulling away.   
“The wolf hears nothing and you hear everything.” Meg muttered, frowning.   
“Yes, it would seem that I do.” He gave her an amused smile, his blue eyes dancing.   
“Did you hear everything?” Meg asked quietly, looking away, cheeks burning like an awkward teenager.   
“Yes.”   
“I suppose you'll be contacting Ottawa in the morning.” Meg swallowed hard.   
“Why?” Fraser's brows nearly collided with his hair line when they shot up in surprise.   
“To report me for improper conduct, for harassment or something.” She watched him laugh until he hurt, which took all of two seconds.  
“To kiss and tell would be against my 'ethics' as you put it.” He pulled Meg's hand to his lips.   
“Things won't be easy, Fraser, you of all people know how Ottawa is.” Meg squeezed his hand, her dark brown eyes worried.   
“If Ottawa doesn't ask, we won't volunteer things of a personal nature.” He assured her.   
“Optimist.” Meg snorted, rolling her eyes.   
“I prefer 'realist'.” Fraser shrugged with his uninjured shoulder.   
“Did Ray visit after I left earlier?” Meg changed the subject.   
“Yes, he came in for a moment. He seemed preoccupied.” Fraser frowned.   
“He said Lt. Welsh and Detective Huey pulled him off of the gunman and Welsh sent him home. I think there's more to it though.” Meg speculated. She wondered how the suspect had fared in Ray's custody.   
“I'm concerned about him.” Fraser shifted in bed, making him wince. He'd had broken ribs before but not paired with a gunshot.   
“I'll call Lt. Welsh in the morning.” Meg offered. Ray wasn't her main concern just then.   
“I haven't thanked you for saving my life.” She stroked his cheek with the back of her hand, gazing into his dark blue eyes.   
“It was my pleasure, a true blessing in disguise.” Fraser closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling of her soft hand against his skin.   
“I should be going, you need to rest.” Meg leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I'll see you in the morning.”   
“Good night, Meg, sweet Meg.” Fraser pulled her hand to his lips again, his voice soft and warm to her ears.   
“Good night, Ben.” She slipped away, leaving him and Dief to get their beauty rest.   
***   
The next morning Meg called the Twenty-seventh Precinct and asked for Lieutenant Welsh. Francesca Vecchio took her sweet time forwarding the call to the boss' office. If Meg thought Frannie wouldn't hang up on her, she'd have ordered her to transfer the call. Instead, Meg waited patiently.   
“Lieutenant Welsh speaking,” he began.   
“This is Inspector Thatcher, Constable Fraser asked me to call and inquire about Detective Ve -, ah, Ray. Fraser is concerned about him.” Meg kept it short and sweet lest she reveal her own concern as well.   
“Good morning, Inspector, how's Constable Fraser?” Welsh asked, sidetracking.  
“He's recovering nicely, thank you kindly for asking. How is Ray?” Meg parried the question.   
“Listen, Inspector, it's complicated, Ray's been suspended pending an I.A. investigation. He brought the suspect from the alderman case in looking like a soggy plum.” The lieutenant's voice took on a conspiratorial tone. “He says the guy was like that when he found him but the guy says Ray's responsible. Personally, I don't know what to think yet.” Welsh sighed heavily.   
“I see, I had no idea.” Meg responded. “That explains a lot.” she added silently.   
“Inspector, I'd greatly appreciate it if you'd keep this whole mess to yourself, Ray doesn't need any more hassle than he's already got.”   
“Yes, I completely understand, you have my assurance, I won't breathe a word to anyone.” Meg reassured him.   
“Thanks, tell Fraser that everyone hopes he gets better soon.” Welsh's chair creaked even across the phone line.   
“I will, Lieutenant, good day.” With that, Meg hung up the phone and stared at it a moment.   
“Constable Turnbull!” Meg called from her desk, through the open door. The junior Mountie appeared at her door frame almost instantly.   
“Yes, Inspector?” Turnbull asked, shoulders squared, back straight as an ironing board.   
“Do you have Ray's mobile number?” Meg rounded the desk, a scowl on her face.   
“Yes, I believe it's in my Rolodex, if you'll give me a moment to find it.” He stood absolutely still until Inspector Thatcher barked at him to go get it. He came back a moment later bearing a Post-It note with every phone number either Ray had ever had.   
***   
After calling Ray's cell phone number several times, the Vecchio house, Elaine Bresbiss and the Kowalski's, Meg finally located him at Assistant District Attorney Stella Kowalski's office. The secretary obstinately refused to put Thatcher through until she mentioned Fraser's name. Then she became all sugar and syrup. Meg rolled her eyes and held her tongue.   
“Stella Kowalski,” she answered abruptly.   
“This is Inspector Thatcher, I was told that Ray is in your office, may I speak to him?” Meg cut to the chase. Stella Kowalski was one of the few women in the world unaffected by Fraser's charms- somehow.  
“Just a moment,” Stella handed the receiver over. Meg could hear Ray protesting and Stella hissing for him to take it anyway.  
“Yeah,” Ray answered gruffly.  
“Detective, I just heard from Lt. Welsh that you've been suspended pending an Internal Affairs investigation.” Meg heard Ray curse under his breath.  
“Yeah, now's not a good time, I'll talk to Fraser later.” Ray growled.  
“Meet me at the hospital after consulate hours.” Meg demanded.   
***


	4. Chapter 4

Meg slid into her suit jacket. She'd already gathered her trench coat and brief case, ready to leave for the evening.   
“Come on, Ray, don't keep me waiting.” she grumbled as she checked her watch again. The consulate had officially been closed for thirty minutes and the detective still hadn't arrived.   
“Inspector,” Ray's voice broke the silence a second before the front door slammed.  
“Detective, you're late.” Meg shook her head, frowning at him.   
“It's rush hour. What do you want?” Ray followed her into her office. A fluorescent light overhead lit the office in a grungy sort of way, as if it were only there because it couldn't get away.   
Meg noted Ray's thickening stubble and red rimmed eyes. She smelled peppermint and the sour, sugary smell of alcohol wafting off him. He wasn't the first law enforcement officer who'd turned to drinking for comfort.   
“I'd like to help you with the Alderman Harrison case, obviously, someone is determined to see your reputation and career ruined. Since Constable Fraser insists on interjecting himself into the Twenty-seventh Precinct's business, it would look bad on him, as well as the Canadian government, to be dragged into an internal investigation.”   
Ray dropped into a chair across the desk from the Inspector. He threw his head back, wiping his eyes wearily.   
“Yeah, well, that's all well and good, 'cept it's my word against his. The guy's clean, no arrests, nada. We've run him six ways from Sunday; financial, criminal, everything.” Ray stared boldly at the Inspector, his blue eyes bright despite his haggard face.   
“I see,” Meg nodded, lost in thought.   
“I don't want Fraser mixed up in this any more than you do, we've worked this case for weeks, it's solid police work, you know how Fraser is.” Ray gestured before running his hand through his unruly hair.   
“Yes, I do know Fraser,” Meg's voice sounded soft as she looked down at her desktop.   
“Still, we have to get to the bottom of this, the sooner the better.” She went back to being an Inspector, her expression changing instantly.   
“Could this be the doing of someone you've arrested, or perhaps Detective Vecchio?” Meg's tone dropped to just above a whisper.   
“Maybe. Since I'm outta the precinct, I haven't checked that angle out yet, or it could be that it's those IA guys after me again.” Ray thought back to the eclipse and the way Brandau had grudgingly backed off. He filled Meg in quickly.   
“Have you spoken with Lt. Welsh about this, he may be able to investigate, unofficially.” Meg suggested, wondering what she could do to help.   
“I don't wanna drag Welsh into this, he's already took a lot of the heat offa me.” Ray shook his head.   
“Perhaps you could speak with ADA Kowalski, she may be able to make inquiries.” Meg suggested again, grasping at straws.  
“Nah, Stella's got a bee in her bonnet about this thing, she's gettin' pressure from above to wrap it up.” Ray slouched in the seat, defeated.   
“Hmm, this is a predicament.” Meg sighed, leaning back against her chair.   
“Yep, sure is.” Ray agreed.   
“I'll talk it over with Fraser, he may have other suggestions.” Meg stood up, hoping Ray would take it as a sign of dismissal.  
“Yeah, tell him I'll be by to see him tomorrow sometime, I have a meeting with my rep.” Ray stood up as well, shuffling toward the office door.  
“I will. Go home and get some sleep, eat something.” Meg ordered the wayward detective.  
“Yeah, yeah, okay, Mom,” Ray shrugged, a cockeyed grin on his lank face.  
“You wish.” Meg scoffed, picking up her bulging briefcase.   
***   
Fraser sat up in his hospital bed reading The New Milton Cross' Complete Stories of the Great Operas, a dusty, antiquated tome but it passed the time. It revealed a whole new perspective on the great works the Mountie had only had the pleasure of hearing on the BBC or a stray, Russian radio wave. He'd heard Meg sing 'O Canada' on official holidays and wondered if she'd enjoy going to one of these operas on a date, or perhaps trying her vocal chords on them herself.   
“Hello, Constable,”   
The very person Fraser had been thinking about stepped into the private room. She smiled but couldn't disguise the concern in her lovely, brown eyes.  
“Inspector, hello, I wasn't expecting you until this evening, is anything amiss?” Ben stuck his finger in the book to hold his place.  
“No, nothing's wrong, it's lunch time, I thought you might like some real food.” she held up a brown paper bag and a Styrofoam cup in one hand.   
“Constable Turnbull made you a half gallon of herbal tea and a fruit and nut mix tuna salad sandwich. I think he's a better cook than an officer, but his heart is in the right place.” she rolled her eyes but grinned while talking about her other, wayward junior officer.   
“Ah, herbal tea, wonderful.” Ben beamed, both at the gift of tea but to see Meg as well.   
“The imbecile didn't even stop to consider you may have an allergy to nuts.” Meg continued to fuss, pulling the roller table over to Ben's bedside. In the bag were several napkins, two sandwiches, and a fist sized cinnamon roll still warm in the center.   
“This is delicious, would you like one?” Ben offered Meg the other sandwich. She had something on her mind, he could tell. She laid her purse on the marble window sill before taking a seat on the bedside, all avoiding eye contact.  
“Yes, thank you,” she began pulling bites from the whole wheat bread, careful not to let any of the mayo based contents drop onto her raw silk blouse.   
“Have you spoken to Ray?” Ben began, watching Meg carefully.   
“Yes, I've offered to help him with the case in your stead, there aren't many leads to go on.” Meg frowned, reviewing the case in her mind.  
“Perhaps the alderman knows something, whether he knows he knows or not.” Fraser volunteered.   
“I would assume he's hired an expensive lawyer by now.” Meg shook her head, shrugging. It was a puzzle she couldn't figure out …. and she hated that.  
“You are a master at persuasion, Margaret.” Fraser laid his hand over hers and gave her an encouraging smile.  
“So I've been told.” Meg smiled. “I'm afraid talking to him may jeopardize the vote buying case. I'm going to the court house to investigate the alderman's upcoming schedule.”   
“Perhaps I could accompany you, I do have some history with City Hall.” Ben moved to get out of bed.  
“You will not! I absolutely forbid it, as your commanding officer.” Inspector Thatcher stood up, pushing him backward by the shoulders.  
Ben's eyes widened in surprise. He hadn't expected her to react that way.   
“Yes, Sir, understood.” he leaned back, puzzled at her vehemence.  
“You moron, you've been shot in the back and hit your head hard enough to be unconscious for days. You are officially, and unofficially, off duty for the duration of this case, Constable Fraser.” Inspector Thatcher laid if off to him, making herself crystal clear.   
Ben's first instinct was that he'd said something to change her feelings toward him. Had she taken his offer as an insult to her capability, to her intelligence? Didn't she know him better than that?   
“Ben, you need to rest, I'll call if I find anything.” she pulled his blanket back up to his chest, her voice softer. Her soft brown eyes studied him for a moment, gauging his reaction.   
“I'm not very good at being the concerned girlfriend am I?” she plucked at the scratchy material, biting her lower lip.   
“You did seem to channel your inner Inspector just a bit heavily.” Ben offered her a smile.   
“The Inspector has far more practice.” Meg playfully punched him on the shoulder.   
“As does the Mountie.” he assured her softly, ducking his head a moment. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the feel of her hand caressing his cheek.   
“I should be going, I'll call if I find anything interesting.” Meg pressed a kiss to his other cheek before finding her purse and leaving. Ben felt the air in his lungs leave with her. He ached to be near her again. Still, he felt a sense of calm spread over him, knowing she'd be back, knowing she cared.   
A little late a nurse found him leaned back snoozing, a book on his lap and a half smile on his face.  
***


	5. Chapter 5

City Hall ….   
To go along with the sprawling city came a labyrinth-like government building in downtown Chicago. Meg managed to find a parking spot on the lowest level of the parking structure and took a lurching, grinding elevator to the ground floor. Stepping out, she found herself in a historic building with marble floors, art deco accents and jewel tone stained glass windows illuminating the lobby. Meg slowly made her way toward an information desk at the far end of the lobby. She had to take in the impressive architecture around her. Despite her time in Ottawa, historic buildings still made the lady Mountie feel small and young.   
“Hello, may I help you?” an African-American woman greeted Meg with a cheerful smile.  
“Yes, I'd like Alderman Harrison's voting history for his entire term.” Meg asked in her most authoritative Inspector voice.   
The once cheerful greeter's smile melted away. She began typing on the computer to her left. A few minutes later a five page print out began it's staccato eruption from the printer.   
“Here you are, Ma'am.” she handed the freshly printed pages to Meg.   
“Thank you kindly, have a good day.” Meg took the printout with a nod before making her way back to the parking garage.   
“Well, that will definitely tip our hand.” she let out a heavy sigh as she stepped out of the grungy elevator. Harrison knew about Meg's visit as soon as the elevator door closed behind her.   
“Oh well, it can't be helped.” She hoped she hadn't gotten into something over her head.  
***   
Author's Note- I've never actually been to Chicago, so some elements of the story, such as City Hall, are more metaphor than fact.


	6. Chapter 6

The Hospital …..   
Fraser woke with a start at the sound of heavy footfalls coming into his room. Ray stood at the foot of the bed, a coffee in one hand and a bag of candy in the other.   
“Hey, Frase, sorry I woke ya, how ya feelin'?” the Detective asked softly.   
“I'm on the mend. How are you?” the Mountie studied his unofficial partner in the dim light coming from the open door.   
“Ah, still kickin' ass and takin' names,” Ray flashed a dazzling white smile for a moment before taking a sip of candy sweetened coffee.   
“Have you spoken with you representative?” Fraser switched back to grim reality.  
“Yeah, met 'im yesterday, guy's a pencil neck nerd, real smart though.” Ray shrugged. He took a pleather clad seat beside the hospital bed. It creaked under his weight.  
Ben examined his friend quickly. Ray had shaved and showered, changed clothes and from his steady hands, he'd eaten recently. Still, he seemed tense, his heart heavy. Ben knew how pressure from superiors felt. He'd been banished to Chicago for turning in a fellow officer and putting a crimp in a major dam project. Important men didn't appreciate dead caribou thawing across their desks.   
“Inspector Thatcher went to City Hall yesterday, I'm waiting for her to bring Alderman Harrison's voting history, it may shed light on who's behind the shooting.” Fraser changed subjects again, back to something they could do something about.  
“It'll be tough as nails chasin' a paper trail that'll hold up in court.” Ray leaned forward, elbows on his knees as he talked.   
“Yes, quite,” Ben agreed, scratching his forehead with his thumbnail. “but it's the only route we have just now.”   
“We gotta find somethin', Fraser, my rep's pushin' me to plead guilty to assault.” Ray let out a gusty sigh, hanging his head. Nervously, he ran his free hand up the back of his neck.   
“It'll mean my badge, 'er Vecchio's badge, I ain't sure which.” He kicked the wooden leg of the chair for emphasis.   
“Ray, there's no need to worry, we'll get to the bottom of this.” Fraser assured him.   
“Yeah, before or after my career is kaput?” The Mountie heard his friend's unspoken thought.   
A tap on the door brought both men out of their silence.   
“Hello, it's Inspector Thatcher.” Meg stepped through the door, a thick file folder in hand.   
“Me-, uh, Inspector Thatcher, hello.” Fraser began, catching himself. He saw the knowing grin on Ray's face before hiding behind his coffee.   
“I was able to get a print out of Harrison's voting history and with a little help from Francesca, we compiled this list of people involved in the projects.” Meg laid the thick file on the rolling meal tray at the foot of Fraser's bed. The lady Mountie gave him a lightning fast wink before continuing.   
“I'm still working on the money trail. I thought since you have time off, perhaps you could go over these with fresh eyes.” she bypassed Fraser and handed Ray several sheets of printed material. “I have a mountain of paperwork waiting at the consulate.”   
“I'll just hit the john before I start.” Ray stood up, dropped his paper cup into the trash can and headed for the door, leaving Meg and Fraser together, alone. The lady Mountie took a seat on the side of the bed, more at ease without Ray.   
“How are you, Ben?” she spoke softly, taking in, no, drinking in, the sight of him in the diffused light through the window.   
“I'm getting better.” He smiled, taking her hand.   
“Has the doctor been around to see you?” Meg narrowed her eyes, examining him for herself. It didn't take a pulse monitor or a blood pressure machine to tell her his heart soared upon seeing her.   
“He should be around any time, hopefully I'll be released tomorrow.” Ben brought Meg's hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss against her palm.   
“You won't leave against doctor's orders, I won't hear of it.” she warned him sternly.  
“Yes, Inspector, understood.” Ben teased gently. He knew she wanted him to be safe and healthy above all else.   
“Good.” she declared, trying to suppress a pleased smile. They talked a while about Dief, Turnbull, business at the consulate and well wishes from the Twenty-seventh Precinct.   
“Have you had the opportunity to meet Ray's representative?” Ben asked finally, concern darkening his blue eyes.  
“No, but Lt. Welsh says he's the best.” Meg assured him. “Still, Welsh is concerned about the case against the Detective, the evidence is overwhelming, there may be civil charges filed.”   
“Oh dear.” Ben murmured, shaking his head.   
“Yes, I agree.” Meg sighed. She and Ray may not have been best of buddies, but she hated to see a good cop being framed.   
“We'll simply have to prove him innocent.” Meg declared as if it were a foregone conclusion.   
“Let's roll,” Ray broke into the scene, “Fraser gets the math and I'll take the rest.”   
“Call me if you need anything, Detective, Constable, I'll be at the Consulate.” Meg stood up, acting guilty though she had no reason.   
“Good day, Inspector.” Fraser wished her, barely hiding his wistful tone.   
“Thanks, Inspector.” Ray turned to her, his light blue eyes earnest.   
“You're welcome, Detective.” Meg nodded before going on her way. Perhaps there was more to the wild, blond detective than she thought?  
***   
Sal's Bar, Skid Row …..  
A Gemini cab stopped outside a crumbling, brick building in one of Chicago's rougher neighborhoods. Despite his jeans and denim jacket, Harrison stood out like a sore thumb. He didn't want to be there anymore than the residents wanted him there. Still, he had business to attend to.   
Loud, hard rock music spilled out behind a lecherous couple pushing through the bar's glass door. Harrison stepped aside to let them through, not certain they saw him. Shaking his head, the incognito alderman stepped inside and surveyed the long, narrow interior. A tattooed and mostly drunk band played on a small, corner stage opposite the bar. Two pool tables held most of the patrons' attention. At the one nearest the rear stood the man Harrison had come to see.   
Dennis Horvath leaned his hip against the pool table, a cue in one hand and along neck in the other. Tall, broad shouldered and powerfully built, he sported a few scars on his shaven head and a fresh skull tattoo on his bicep. Harrison took a deep breath, but immediately regretted it. How could anyone breathe in the smoky bar? The alderman made a mental note to look into a smoking ban in bars.   
“Horvath, you have a minute?” Harrison shouted over the rowdy music. Horvath turned from one of his associates to look at the designer label wearing politician. Harrison's didn't like the sharp glint in the other man's blue eyes.  
“Yeah, this way.” Horvath nodded toward a black, metal door, an EXIT sign blinking above it. Harrison shoved his hands in his pockets, hiding the shaking.   
“What are you doing back here? Are you tryin' to get us caught?” The roughneck leaned toward Harrison, invading his personal space.   
“The Mountie survived, now his boss is snooping around, looking into my voting history, I want them taken care of, the detective too while you're at it.” Harrison stood his ground, staring coldly back at Horvath.  
“Then it's gonna cost ya, ten grand each.” Horvath took a swig from his beer before tossing the empty in the vicinity of the dumpster.   
“No, you botched the job, now finish it.” Harrison growled.   
“You sure got a pair, comin' around here, ordering me around in my stompin' grounds. Ten grand each or do it yourself.” Horvath smacked Harrison in the chest to make his point.  
“Ten for all three or I will do it myself.” Harrison switched into negotiation mode, still standing his ground.  
“Yeah, okay, but I want it all up front, tomorrow.” Horvath crossed his brawny arms over his muscled chest.   
“Fine, same time, same place as last time.” Harrison shrugged before turning his back on the low life.   
***


	7. Chapter 7

The Hospital ….  
Ben and Ray spent the afternoon pouring over Harrison's voting history. All in all, he seemed to be fair and civic minded, a champion of schools and small businesses.   
“Sheesh, this guy's duller than you, Frase.” Ray grumbled, standing up to stretch his legs and back.   
“There has to be something we're missing, Ray, the anonymous tip specifically stated that the alderman and his underworld contact would be at that house. You, me and the Inspector all three saw him in the house just before the shooting began.” Fraser laid aside the yellow legal pad Meg had left them along with the voting history.   
“We know what he's for, what's he against?” Ray asked, hands on his snake hips.   
“Ah, against, I hadn't thought of it that way, Ray.” Fraser began going back through the voting history pages and making notes furiously.  
“I don't know why I didn't see this pattern before, so far I've found seventeen instances of Harrison voting against changes to the docks in his district.” Ben continued scanning the pages, Ray peering over his shoulder.  
“I'd love to see Harrison's financials.” Ray ran his thumb across his chin, his mind working hard and fast.   
“That would require a warrant, considering the situation, I don't think that will be possible.” Ben stated matter-of-factly.   
“Yeah, I know what ya mean.” Ray agreed, disheartened. He wanted to nail Harrison so badly, for setting him, Fraser and the Inspector up to be shot at and for attacking his reputation. Ray had rarely been a textbook officer, but he always did his best, and proud of it.   
“I wonder if my friend Marlene at the IRS knows I'm on the shit list?” Ray muttered to himself.   
“What kind of list, Ray?” Ben asked, puzzled.   
“Never mind, Fraser, I got a call to make.” Ray headed out the door as if hell hounds were after him, digging his cell phone out of his jacket pocket.   
Twenty minutes later, Ben had finished going through the records and taking notes. He'd called the consulate and informed Meg of their findings and Ray's mysterious need to make a phone call. Hearing Meg's voice on the other end of the line didn't hurt Ben's feelings either. She asked him how he felt and what he wanted for dinner that evening. She told him good-bye in a tender voice Ben had only dreamed about.   
After Ben hung up with the consulate, Ray walked in, a toothy smile on his face.   
“I got good news,” He informed Ben, “A friend of mine at the IRS is sending us Harrison's tax returns, she owes me a few favors.”   
“Ray, is that legal?” Ben asked, mildly shocked.   
“Strictly speakin'?” Ray asked, his smile fading.  
“Yes, strictly speaking.” Ben affirmed.  
“No, not strictly speakin' it ain't, we can't use it in court but it'll point us to something we can use.” Ray reasoned.   
“Ray,” Ben admonished, “this could put the case at stake.”  
“This ain't just a case, Fraser, it's my badge, my reputation,” he paused, “my life.”   
“Ray, I understand your position, but if we go by the book we will prove that there is a connection between the suspect and Harrison.” Ben's tone had softened.   
“Yeah, I guess so.” Ray frowned as he stared back at Fraser.   
“I had Marlene send the tax papers to the consulate, the Inspector shoulda got 'em by now.” Ray crossed his arms over his chest as he changed the subject. It was clear to Fraser that he still intended to use the ill gotten tax records anyway, with or without his help.   
“I'll call the consulate again and inform Me-, ah, the Inspector.” Ben said as he reached for the telephone.  
“If you call her 'Sugar' or 'Honey', I'm gonna barf.” Ray said with a screwed up face barely hiding a teasing smile.  
“Ray.” Ben raised an exasperated brow at his sometimes juvenile friend.   
****   
Seven O'clock that Evening ….  
“How we gonna get into this guy's room, visitin' hours are about over.”   
“Cool it, Lenny, we walk in like we belong there and nobody'll pay us any mind. It's shift change, everyone's busy.” Horvath said as he straightened his leather jacket before entering by the Emergency Room entrance. His gaunt faced, rain thin associate shoved his hands in his shabby sport coat pockets and fidgeted with his car keys, fretting that he should have worn a baseball cap like Horvath.   
A few minutes of taking less traveled routes, Horvath and Lenny walked onto Fraser's floor. As he'd said, all the nurses were busy giving reports to the oncoming shift. They didn't pay any attention to the two men walking quietly along the austere white and florescent hallway. The men walked into the corner room to the right. The occupant had already turned off the lights for the evening and closed the blinds as well. Dim light from a security light outside showed the way between the foot of the bed and the wall. Horvath pulled a syringe from his jacket pocket and began drawing air into the barrel slowly.  
“Close the door and watch it.” Horvath turned to his hesitant associate, hissing his order.   
“Yeah, okay.” Lenny complied, stepping quietly back to the door.   
Horvath stepped up to the foot of the bed, the syringe ready to plunge five hundred CC's of air into the Mountie's IV.   
Grrrrr …. A throaty, feral growl came from the corner of the hospital room still deep in shadow. Out of the darkness stepped the biggest dog Horvath had ever seen. It was almost completely white with caramel colored markings and eerie, blue eyes. The hair around the animal's neck stood out and it's ears were pinned to it's head. Fangs gleamed as the animal stepped forward, the growl sounded as if it came from deep within the beast's chest.  
“What's going on?” Lenny whined as Horvath backed into him.  
“Diefenbaker!”  
Blinding, florescent lights snapped on overhead and a woman's voice spoke over the intercom system.  
“This is Constable Fraser, send security to this room and call the police, there are intruders.” Ben stated calmly as he edged out of bed, pulling his IV out of the back of his hand. Thankfully, one of the male nurses had found a pair of hospital gown pants for him earlier so his backside wasn't exposed.  
“They're comin', Dennis, let's get out of here.” Lenny complained, tugging on the bigger guy's arm.  
“Leave if you want to, I've got work to do.” Horvath snarled.   
Lenny took off out the door and toward the stairs nearby. Fraser heard someone shout 'Stairs' outside.  
“It's just you and me and the dog.” Horvath stepped forward, nothing to lose now.   
Diefenbaker growled louder, stepping forward as well, putting himself between the intruder and Fraser.   
“I wouldn't advance any farther, Sir, you see, Diefenbaker is mostly deaf, he may not hear my command to heel.” Ben began, holding his free hand over the IV tape on the back of his hand.  
“Deaf dog my foot.” Horvath barked, kicking at the growling beast.   
“He's a wolf actually, it's a long story,”   
Before Ben could get the story underway Dief sank his fangs into the intruder's kicking leg. It didn't stop Horvath from advancing on Ben. The Mountie stepped backward, right into the foot of his hospital bed. He couldn't see if the weapon in Horvath's hand was a knife or another instrument.   
“If I don't call him off, Diefenbaker my puncture your femoral artery, you'll bleed to death in seconds.” Ben warned, trying to find the rolling meal table of visitors' chair, anything to put between himself and the assailant.   
“Shut up and die already.” Horvath growled, dragging Dief with him toward his target. He held the syringe in his fist, aiming for an overhanded attack. Dief tried to pull Horvath back, away from Ben but the slick, tile floor didn't provide any traction under his paws.   
“Stop, this is Hospital Security.” a man's voice warned from the door of the room. It only prompted Horvath to attempt his attack sooner. He thrust the syringe downward, using all his considerable weight and muscle. Fraser caught his arm with both hands, barely keeping the larger man from driving the syringe into his torso. Dief had let go, just long enough to get a better grip on the man's thigh. He sank his fangs into the muscle just above the knee, his jaws straining to clamp down even harder. Horvath let out a vulgar string of words as he tried to shake Diefenbaker off.   
“If you don't stop I'll be forced to shoot, Mister.” The security guard warned, his voice slightly shaky.   
Ben didn't have much leverage, what with being barefoot and his gun shot wound making him weak. He couldn't kick for fear of kicking Dief, he couldn't free one hand from fending off Horvath's attack and he couldn't even do something as simple as stomp his foot. Come on, Ben, use your head. Horvath leaned in closer, towering over the Mountie. He would regret that move. Ben pulled back, still holding Horvath's hand, closed his eyes and head butted the big man. It caught him in the nose and mostly in the mouth and chin, making him stagger. He lost his balance when he lost traction in a pool of blood around his feet. Dief let go, letting the big man hit the floor like a sack of potatoes. Ben took the syringe away from Horvath and laid it on the rolling meal tray near the head of his bed. The security guard stood over him, pointing his pistol between the big man's eyes. He and Ben watched as Horvath tried to roll over to stand but sank onto his back. His eyes were unfocused and glassy looking. Blood poured from the man's nose and gushed from the bite wounds in his leg.   
“Geez, I think he's dead.” the security guard looked up from Horvath to Ben. The Mountie bent over gingerly and checked for a pulse.   
“He's dead.” Ben confirmed, holding his arm close against him.  
“Is that really a wolf, Mister?” The guard asked quietly, his round face paler than a sheet. He still held his pistol in both hands, his feet planted squarely.   
“Yes, well, part wolf at least.” Ben answered, taking a seat on the hospital bed.   
“Chicago PD, what's goin' on?” Ray's voice boomed in the small room.   
“Intruder, tried to kill this guy with a syringe.” The guard answered, finally remembering to holster his weapon.   
“Fraser, you okay?” Ray asked, peering around the guard into the room.   
“Yes, Ray, but you and the Inspector may not be.” Ben answered, picking up the phone with his good hand, or at least the one opposite his gun shot wound.   
***


	8. Chapter 8

_**Twenty minutes later …**_.

Ray drove like an Indy 500 driver through the clogged streets of Chicago. He'd put the red light atop his black beauty and bullied his way through intersections, on his way to the Inspector's apartment across town. Ben had called her on her mobile and told her what had happened.

“Stay in your apartment and lock the doors, don't go near the windows. Ray and I will be there shortly.” Ben advised her.

“Benton Fraser, I am a law enforcement officer the same as you, I can take care of myself just as well too.” Meg fussed.

“Meg, please, your safety.” Ben pleaded with her, using her first name despite Ray's presence in the car. He wanted to travel through the cell phone signal and straight to her side.

“You're really worried about me, aren't you.” Meg said, her tone fuss free.

“Yes, Meg, I am.” Ben said softly.

“Alright, I'll lock the door and alert the door man. Be careful.” She wished him, now worried about herself.

“I will.” Ben answered before hanging up the cell phone.

***

Meg locked and chained the door before closing the blinds to the windows overlooking the street Ray and Ben would be arriving on.

“Stupid regulations,” She groused as she found a butcher knife in the kitchen and her pocket knife from her purse. “Thankfully, I hadn't put my pajamas on yet.” the lady Mountie muttered as she sat down on the couch to tie her tennis shoes, despite wearing expensive slacks and a designer blouse.

Several minutes later a heavy knock on the door rattled the Inspector.

“Who is it?” she asked quickly, grabbing the butcher knife in her dominant hand.

“Inspector Thatcher, it's Constable Fraser and Detective Ve, ah, Ray.”

Meg listened for a minute. The voice sounded familiar but strained.

“Why are you breathing heavily?” Meg asked, her hand on the knob and one eye looking out the peep hole.

“C'mon, Thatcher, it's us, let us in.” Ray's voice growled as he stared back at her through the peep hole.

“How do I know you aren't being coerced?” Meg persisted warily. She heard Ray say something about her sounding stupider than Turnbull.

“I'll have you know …..” Meg's voice trailed off when she saw Fraser leaning heavily on the wall opposite her door. The florescent lighting overhead made his pale complexion look even more ghastly and he held his gunshot wound with his free hand. Diefenbaker stood at his human's feet, looking up at him anxiously.

“Come in, Constable, I wasn't thinking.” Meg stepped aside for Ray to help Fraser inside.

“Sheesh, Fraser, yer heavier than a sack of cement.” Ray grunted as he helped the Mountie sit down in a kitchen chair.

“What happened?” Meg pulled up another kitchen chair beside Ben.

“Two thugs tried to whack 'im, Dief took a bite out of crime.” Ray joked, standing with his hands in his jacket pockets.

“Have you eaten dinner?” Meg asked in general. Dief came nosing up to her, his eyes fairly begging.

“I don't have anything sweet, sorry.” Meg looked down at him apologetically. The wolf's head sunk and he padded back to Fraser's side.

“Coffee?” Ray asked hopefully.

“Yes, I have some already made.” Meg pointed Ray toward the percolator sitting on the kitchen counter, coffee mugs hanging from pegs above it. Her gaze didn't leave Fraser's still form.

“Are you alright, Ben?” Meg whispered as she squatted down to his level to look at his face.

“I've been worse.” He whispered back, giving her a reassuring smile.

“Not on my watch.” Meg laid her hand on his shoulder, so wanting to caress his cheek before kissing him.

“Hmm, what flavor is this, pumpkin 'er somethin'?” Ray asked, ruining the moment.

“Yes, it is, Detective.” Meg stood up again, going back to Inspector mode.

With Fraser sitting comfortably on Meg's sofa, she and Ray sat in wing chairs close at hand, as though gathered around for a story session. Eventually, Ben and Ray told Meg about the two assailants and their attempt to kill Ben. Diefenbaker sat on his haunches, chest puffed out proudly when it came to his heroic take down of the shaven headed killer. Fraser didn't have much to say, his various bumps and bruises, as well as his gun shot wound, paining him. He laid his head back against the couch and drifted off within an hour.

Meg couldn't hide her admiration for the Mountie resting on her couch. His long, dark lashes lay on his cheeks as he slept, the picture of peace.

“Sheesh, you look as dopey at him as he does at you.” Ray commented with a soft snicker.

“I do not!” Meg hissed barely under her breath.

“Hey, you don't gotta try an' fool me, Inspector, if you're happy together, then I say go for it.” Ray shrugged, scratching at is five o'clock shadow.

“It isn't that simple, Detective, our superiors frown on this sort of thing.” Meg leaned back against her chair, gazing sadly at Fraser.

“Things weren't simple for Stella and me, her being at the district attorney's office an' all. We did okay when it came to our careers, that wasn't what broke us up.” Ray crossed his arms over his chest as he stared at his heavy, black boots.

“I'm sorry.” Meg spoke softly, genuinely contrite.

“Yeah, me too.” Ray murmured.

Meg laid a lap throw over Fraser around ten o'clock. Neither she nor Ray wanted to disrupt his peaceful sleep.

“You can go on to bed 'er whatever, I ain't sleepy yet, I'll sit with him.” Ray offered.

“Thank you, Detective.” Meg nodded solemnly before leaving.

***

_**Seven O'clock ….** _

Ray jerked hard, almost landing out in the middle of the floor. His phone rang and vibrated in his jacket pocket, startling him.

“Yeah, what?” He barked, wiping sleep out of his light blue eyes. His mouth tasted like sour gym socks and his neck had a kink in it from sleeping funny.

“Oh, okay, we'll be there in a half hour or so, thanks, Frannie.” Ray hung up quickly.

“What did Francesca have to say?” Ben asked, also wiping sleep out of his eyes. He sat up gingerly, testing his range of motion. Dief still snored in the corner.

“That guy they caught in the stair well, uh, Lenny, he's been singin' like a bird all night, rollin' over on Dennis Horvath. He don't know Horvath's dead and wants to cut the first deal, says he knows who hired Horvath and who worked over my suspect. Welsh wants me at the station.” Ray quickly informed his unofficial partner as he collected his jacket and tried to smooth a few wrinkled out of his shirt.

“I'll go with you,” Ben laid off the chenille lap throw and began to stand.

“I don't think so, Constable, your doctor hasn't cleared you for duty.” Meg's voice cut through like a chainsaw. She stood in the hallway, arms crossed over an RCMP shirt and an unrelenting glint in her dark brown eyes.

“Yeah, I got this one, buddy, I'll take Dief with me so he can empty his bladder an' meet you at the consulate 'er somethin'. No sweat.” Ray jangled his car key as he moved toward the door. Dief waited with a wagging tail, ready to relieve himself and hopefully eat a bear claw the size of his head.

“That sounds fine, Ray, thank you kindly.” The Mountie conceded, setting back on the sofa with a short grunt.

“Don't do nothin' I'd do, buddy.” Ray snickered, looking from Ben to the Inspector and back again.

“Ray!” Ben admonished.

“Detective, that's enough!” Meg growled, advancing on him.

“See ya, guys.” Ray closed the apartment door before Meg could get her hands on him, thankfully.

“What would you like for breakfast, Ben?” Meg turned to look at her house guest. She looked forward to sharing a meal with him – alone.

“I'm not hungry, thank you.” Ben said, trying to conceal a groan as he stood.

“Nonsense, you won't heal quickly if you don't eat properly, I'll have something put together by the time you freshen up. The bathroom is down the hall to the right.” Meg shooed him out of the living room with determination in her eyes.

“Okay,” Ben stepped toward her, a crooked smile on his face as he pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“I need you well, and back at the consulate where I can keep an eye on you.” Meg took his hand in hers.

“Both of them.” He teased gently, making her smile. _What a way to wake up._ Ben thought to himself.

***

_**The Twenty-seventh Precinct ….** _

Ray had stopped at Dunkin' Donuts on his way to the station, much to Diefenbaker's delight. The wolf scarfed down a crème horn and a jelly donut before coming up for air. Ray shook his head as he sipped black coffee sweetened with Smarties.

“You're gonna choke one of these days doin' that.” Ray warned the wolf, only to receive a yawn in return.

“Hey, I ain't doin' the Heimerstein 'er what ever on ya.” Ray said as he turned a hard right on the tail of a red light before traffic started straight through. Dief huffed at Ray's mispronunciation.

“Heimlich, I knew that.” Ray groused, trading his coffee for a glazed donut.

“Sheesh, now I'm soundin' just like Fraser, one freak is enough in a partnership.” the Detective said aloud with a wicked grin.

A few minutes later Ray and Diefenbaker walked into the bull pen. Dief made a b-line for Francesca's desk, begging a snack.

The Civilian Aide turned in her desk chair to pet the solicitous lupine. Her long, slim legs looked even longer in a black mini skirt up to the limit paired with black pantyhose and chunky, black pumps. Each day was a test of the dress code for Frannie, who only wanted to catch Fraser's eye. With those legs, she caught every straight guy's eye, married, single or 'its' complicated'. This morning it was Ray's turn.

 _She's Vecchio's sister, my sister, sister, legs …._ Ray tried to remind himself. _Stella has great legs, dancer's legs …._ That brought him back to reality, a little sadly.

“Raaaayyyy, you listenin' or what?” Frannie waved a piece of paper in his face.

“Uh, yeah, what is it, Frannie?” Ray took a sip of his coffee and tried to focus.

“It's Lenny Gilbert's rap sheet, nothing violent but he's still not a nice guy, B and E, car wracking, ….”

“You mean 'jacking', Frannie, there's no such thing as 'wracking'.” Ray corrected, squinting to read the print out over her shoulder.

“Yeah, whatever, anyway, he was Horvath's cell mate the first time he went to prison. Guess they're thick as thieves.” Frannie snorted at her own joke.

“I gotta see Welsh.” Ray walked off without another word.

“You're welcome, Brother.” Frannie yelled across the bull pen, her voice carrying over every other noise in the place. Ray simply waved and tapped on Welsh's door before he could say yea or nay.

“I'll have to call you back, Commissioner.” Welsh glared at Ray as he apologetically hung up on his boss.

“I got Frannie's call, what's up Lieutenant?” Ray asked, still standing, chocolate flavored coffee dregs still in hand.

“Lenny Gilbert, that's what's up, Detective, he claims that Alderman Harrison went to a dive bar near the docks night before last and hired Horvath to kill two people, since the attack on Fraser it can only be assumed it was a hit on you, Fraser and the Inspector. I can not stress to you how much we do not need an international incident involving the Mounties. I also can't stress enough that we need solid proof that Harrison and Horvath are connected, something more concrete than the testimony of a spineless henchman.” Welsh leaned forward in his desk chair, his gaze steady on the wiry detective who didn't seem to be listening.

“Detective, are you listening?” Welsh demanded gruffly.

“Yeah, concrete, I got it.” Ray assured him.

“Good, now, you're still on suspension so I can't let you work on the case, officially, Huey and Dewey are in charge just now, but I thought you might like to take a day and go look at the boats down at the docks, they say it's a nice view, especially of Sal's Bar.” Welsh stressed the name of the bar, making Ray grin.

“Yeah, it's a nice view.” Ray ran his thumb thoughtfully along his still unshaven five o'clock shadow, “I gotcha.”

“Good, take a few tourist type photos for me.” Welsh suggested.

“Yeah, I'd love to, I'll see ya in a few days, Lieutenant.” Ray nodded before turning and leaving.

***

 


	9. Chapter 9

_**Thatcher's Apartment …..** _

Meg hummed happily as she stirred scrambled eggs in a small mixing bowl. The toaster ejected four pieces of toast with a mechanical pop. Fresh coffee gave the whole house a pleasant scent.

“Can I be of any help?” Ben asked, standing between the small kitchen table and the stove.

“Nope, but thank you.” Meg answered, not looking away from her eggs.

“Shall I set the table perhaps?” Ben persisted.

“I want to do this for you, now sit.” Meg bullied him backward, mixing bowl still in hand.

Ben didn't know what to say. He'd been bullied by her before, but never so wonderfully. Meg seemed happy and domestic; two things he hadn't seen in her before. He could get used to being teased and bullied like that.

“Yes, Ma'am.” He sat obediently, content to watch her.

“I didn't know how you liked your eggs, other than omelet, but scrambled is the only way I know how to fix them.” Meg shrugged. Eggs weren't really her favorite breakfast food.

“Scrambled eggs are fine, anything you fix is fine.” Ben leaned his head on the heal of his hand, his elbow on the table.

“Flatterer,” Meg threw over her shoulder with a smile as she poured the eggs carefully into the hot skillet.

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK,

Meg's front door jarred on it's hinges as the stranger's fist hammered on it.

“Just a minute.” Meg called, turning the burner down to low on the stove.

“Wait a moment,” Ben stood up, blocking her way.

“Who is it?” He called, gesturing for Meg to arm herself with a kitchen knife still laying out from the night before.

“Delivery,” the man on the other side of the door called roughly.

Ben peered through the peep hole but only saw a tall, white male with a dark jacket and a baseball cap pulled low over his face. Slowly, he opened the door, wishing Dief were there to cover him. The man shoved the door hard, breaking the chain lock and knocking Fraser backward, toward the kitchen. Meg managed to keep him from falling. The intruder pulled a small, silver handgun from his jacket pocket and pointed it at the Mounties.

“Alderman Harrison, I presume.” Fraser said as he steadied himself between Meg and the door frame betwixt the living room and kitchen.

“I thought your head wound was more serious, Constable.” Harrison pulled the ball cap off and tossed it toward the nearest arm chair. He flexed his fingers in his fine, leather gloves holding the pistol. Cold blue eyes bore into the Mountie as he stood in the living room.

“Put the butcher knife away, Inspector, I'll shoot the Constable if you don't.” Harrison warned.

He looks like a catalog model, Meg thought randomly. She dropped the knife and stepped toward Ben, both for his protection and for comfort.

“Why are you here, Harrison?” Meg demanded, feeling the need to assert herself. Fraser wasn't the only one with skills.

“It's hard to hire good help these days, Horvath was supposed to have killed you by now.” Harrison flexed his grip on the gun again.

“Why now, we hadn't connected you and Horvath yet, it may have taken weeks before this hit the media.” Fraser asked, holding himself straight and true.

“Official motto or not, Mounties always get their man. It was simply a matter of time before you pieced it all together.” Harrison answered as he shifted from one foot to the other.

“Piece what together?” Meg inquired with an annoyed huff.

Ben wondered the same thing. All he knew was that someone from Harrison's office had called in an anonymous tip saying that Harrison was going to meet someone from the Devil's Band. It had long been suspected that the squeaky clean alderman was too good to be true and that his lavish lifestyle didn't match his salary, but suspicion was as far as it had gone until the tip.

“You were the one that requested my voting history, all the votes for funding to go to public works, salary raises for the sanitation workers instead of anything to do with the docks in my district.” Harrison shook his head, perplexed at Thatcher's ignorance.

“Ray and I had deduced something along those lines, Horvath attacked before we could gather further information to make a case.” Fraser informed Meg dryly.

“Why didn't you tell me, Constable?” Meg frowned at him, her dark eyes hard as obsidian.

“Inspector ….” Ben began apologetically.

“I hate to interrupt but I have a lunch meeting with the mayor at eleven-thirty, I'll have just enough time to finish you and change.” Harrison waved the compact pistol, taking a step forward toward the Mounties.

Meg made a mad dash toward the stove. She grabbed the hot skillet full of congealed eggs and oil. In an overhanded motion, she tossed the contents at Harrison's face and brought the skillet down on his arm, dislodging the pistol from his hand. Before the alderman could react, Ben tackled him. They landed at Meg's feet, the pistol somewhere under the kitchen table.

As injured Fraser and the athletic alderman wrestled, Meg dove under the table. She heard Fraser grunt loudly as Harrison landed a blow to the gut. They rolled into the couch, thrashing like a schoolyard fight.

“Stop! I'll shoot!” Meg shouted gruffly, gun in hand. I'm not supposed to be handling a handgun, she thought.

Neither man listened. Harrison managed to get both hands around Fraser's neck. The Mountie had one hand trying to pry off the alderman's fingers and the other shoving upward against Harrison's chin, pushing his head backward.

“I said stop or I'll shoot.” Meg shouted again, this time nearing the men. She feared a shot through the wall or the floor would accidentally hit one of her neighbors. Instead of pulling the trigger, she used the grip of the gun as a hammer, coming down hard on Harrison's head.

Harrison moved one hand to the back of his head before landing on his side next to Fraser.

“I thought that only worked in the movies.” Meg said aloud before kneeling down to see to Fraser.

The Mountie coughed, trying to breathe normally again. He saw dark spots before his eyes and pain in his already throbbing head. His shoulder burned with pain from the strain of wrestling.

“Are you alright, Ben?” Meg asked, helping him sit up against the couch.

“Yes,” he managed, blinking a few times. He looked up at her, concern in his sapphire eyes.

“Are you okay?” Ben whispered, still struggling for breath.

“Yes, I'm fine.” She stared at him for a long moment, her fingers running through his dark hair. Beside Ben on the floor Harrison moaned weakly.

“We should call Leftenant Welsh.” Ben broke the spell of the moment.

“Yes, I suppose so.” Meg pulled away, going into 'Inspector Mode'.

“Meg,” Ben spoke as she stood up to find the cordless phone. She turned back to him, waiting for him to finish the sentence.

“Thank you, you were very brave.” he gave her a grateful smile, which cheered her up.

“You did the same for me the other night, it's the least I could do.” Meg let the dazzling smile she kept for special occasions out.

With his good arm, Ben pushed himself up to sit on the edge of the couch. Meg stepped back to him, her heart soaring.

“I wouldn't let anything or anyone hurt you if I could prevent it.”

Meg caressed his cheek, her heart soaring as he took her other hand in both his. She squeezed his lightly calloused hands tightly, trying to memorize the feel of them. Everything about Benton Fraser made Meg feel like a different woman, especially now that she didn't have to suppress her feelings anymore.

A few minutes later, Meg called the Twenty-seventh Precinct and spoke to Lt. Welsh. He dispatched a patrol car and said he'd have Frannie track Ray down. Hopefully, apprehending Harrison would clear the Detective of police brutality charges.

***

 


	10. The End

Six Weeks Later ….  
Fraser stood stock still outside the consulate, his eyes staring straight ahead. His heart beat steadily as he watched the church clock tick closer and closer to noon. Dief started pacing around his feet, ready for lunch and a walk in the park.   
“Constable Fraser, care to escort me to lunch?” Inspector Thatcher's voice spoke as the second hand slid one second closer to noon. She stood beside the Mountie, waiting with him as the last three seconds passed before the bells rang. Eleven rings later, Ben stepped away from his post and offered Meg his arm.  
“I'd love to, Inspector.” He smiled as she slid her arm beneath the crook of his and laid her hand on his forearm. Dief trotted ahead, his nose in the wind.   
“Where are we meeting Ray for lunch?” Ben asked as he opened Meg's car door, holding her purse until she got situated behind the wheel. Next he opened a back door for Dief to join them.   
“Li's Panda Hut-again.” She answered as he slid into the passenger side of the sedan.   
“I don't understand his preoccupation with the place, this is the fourth time in two weeks he's eaten there.” Meg complained as she pulled into the stream of lunch time traffic.   
“He and his ex-wife Stella ate there while they were courting, I believe working with her on the Harrison case has stirred old remembrances.” Ben answered as he laid his Stetson on the backseat with Dief.   
“Ah, I see.” Meg nodded, she knew something about old memories.   
“Today is his first day back after the Harrison trial, isn't it.” Meg changed the subject as she stopped at a red light.   
“Yes. He was excited to be back at the precinct in his official capacity. He doesn't handle boredom well at all.” Ben spoke as he checked the four way stop, despite the green light.   
“Neither do you. I thought I was going to have to sit on you until the doctor released you for duty. You fixed every appliance at the consulate as well as my apartment.” Meg gave him a sidelong glance as she cruised down the street, in no hurry to go to lunch with Ray and Frannie.   
“I had been meaning to change the oven light at the consulate for a while, it seemed like an appropriate time.” Ben dug his thumbnail across his brow.   
“At seven in the morning?” Meg asked sarcastically.   
“Yes, well ….” Ben trailed off.   
“You're back on duty now, thankfully.” Meg put on her turn signal to indicate she intended to parallel park outside the restaurant and put the sedan in the spot easily.   
“Yes, thankfully.” Ben agreed, retrieving his Stetson. Again, he offered Meg his arm. It felt good to have her there, by his side.   
Ray's GTO rattled the windows as he pulled up, the dual exhaust purring as he double parked.   
“Hey, Fraser, Inspector, how ya doin'?” The blond detective slid his aviator sunglass into the neck of his rock band t-shirt and shoved the car keys into his front pocket.   
“Ray, you're parked illegally.” Ben pointed out.   
“Yeah, I know, but me an' Dad just waxed her yesterday, don't want anyone touchin' her.” Ray shrugged, strolling through the door the Mountie held open.  
“Ray! For Pete sake, you coulda waited for me.” Frannie griped as she stalked toward the door.   
Ben gave Meg an exasperated look as the Civilian Aide followed Ray inside, her feet encased in high heels almost as long as her mini skirt.   
“Why did he bring her again?” Meg whispered as she walked through the door ahead of Ben.   
“I'm not certain, something about legs I think.” Ben answered, taking off his Stetson.   
A few minutes later the foursome were seated and their meal orders taken. Dief was promised a wolf size dogie bag if he'd wait outside. With a grumbling growl, he agreed.   
“How did the trial go?” Meg asked Ray, breaking the silence. People moved around them, on their way to and from the buffet table with heaping plates of food.  
“Greatness, Lenny testified against Harrison, who went down hard. They both spilled their guts to the ATF about the Devil's Band an' I'm cleared of all charges, no lawsuit, no nothin'.” Ray grinned, elbows on the table.   
“Does that mean lunch is on you?” Frannie added her two cents worth. In return Ray made a juvenile face at her.   
Ben on the other hand sat watching Meg watch Ray and Frannie. He saw the way her dark eyes danced in secret amusement at their antics. Her 'Inspector' mask had begun to fade, though he knew she'd deny it. The Mountie smiled to himself, content in the company of the woman he loved and his best human friends.   
“What are you grinning at?” Meg whispered after Frannie and Ray had left the table in favor of the buffet.  
“At you, at this,” He answered, laying his hand over hers on the table top.   
“Oh,” Meg smiled, looking down at their hands, her cheeks rose pink.   
“I wish I knew how to tell you how I feel, it isn't easy for me.” Ben gazed into her dark eyes when she looked back up at him, his expression serious, his blue eyes pained.   
“I'm no better, Ben.” Meg admitted, her smile fading slowly, “If you had been awake in the hospital that first night I never would have said anything.”   
“Perhaps now that we've cleared the air we can ….”   
“Kiss her an' I swear I'll kick you both in the head.” Ray interrupted the pair, Ben leaning toward Meg as they spoke.  
“Detective, as tactless as ever I see.” Meg didn't keep the venom from her voice, or out of her chilly stare.   
“Yep, but ya love me anyway.” He shrugged her off and sat down, a plate of meat and noodles in hand.   
“Ray, there's no need to be so theatrical.” Ben shook his head as he took his own plate in hand.   
“Let's just agree to, ah, to ah, disagree then.” The Detective dove into his meal with zeal.   
“What have you got to disagree about, I'm the one's been tryin' to catch Benton's eye for the last two years, I should get dibs on hatin' her first.” Frannie cut in, sitting down with her own meal of vegetables and crab rangoon.  
“Well, I ….” Meg huffed, laying her napkin on her plate, preparing to leave.  
“Neither of us actually hate you, Inspector, you just haven't been added to the family yet.” Frannie shrugged, looking directly at Meg.   
“Yeah, if we hated ya we wouldn't have had lunch with ya four times the last couple weeks.” Ray added with a devilish grin before he forked a wad of noodles in his mouth.   
“Kinda like if you really hated us too you wouldn't have come today.” Frannie continued, waving a freshly manicured and lacquered hand at the other woman.   
Meg had to admit, they had a point, as amorphous as it seemed. Still, she glared at them both for a moment before taking her plate to the buffet.   
“Ray, Francesca, that was uncalled for.” Meg heard Ben saying as she left.   
The waiter who'd taken their drink orders passed the Inspector on his way to another table in his section, a pitcher of ice water on a tray. Meg set her plate on the buffet and relieved him of the pitcher. With a maniacal grin, she walked back to her table.   
“Well, if I'm to be added to the family, allow me to give you both a gift.” Meg poured the chilled water over Ray and then Francesca, drawing shrieks from her and a sharp gasp from Ray.   
“Are you insane?” Ray barked, wiping water from his eyes.  
“My blouse is ruined!” Frannie bawled.   
Meg looked over at Ben. His mouth hung open and his blue eyes stared at her in wonder.   
“Welcome to the family, Meg.” Ray said, shaking his wet head, his once spiked hair flat from the force of the water.   
All four of them began laughing; long, hard belly laughter. Other customers stared openly at the odd foursome but they didn't pay them any mind. Why should they, they had each other.   
The End.


End file.
